


The Things Tony Hates

by ashes0909



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cruise Ships, Fluff, M/M, POV Multiple, Post-Avengers (2012), Team Bonding, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers saved the world.  Now, Fury thinks it is time for some team bonding. On a cruise ship. </p><p>This is not an AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

 "I _hate_ that we have to do this on a cruise ship. I hate that we have to use a vessel I do not own. I hate that we have to do this at all."

"Tony Stark would like to enlighten us all with a list of the Things He Hates." Clint waved a hand in the air, his feet perched on the railing as they watched the New York skyline fade away. He had a frozen drink in his other hand, it had an umbrella in it; Tony hated both of those things.

Instead of vocalizing his hate yet again, he smacked Clint's feet off the railing and walked away from the Avengers. Steve and his bonding, Steve leading them all above deck to say bon voy- _fucking_ -age, to talk and giggle and braid each others hair.

Tony hated how much he actually wanted them to become a team because, eventually, everyone left and the Avengers would do just the same.

He wanted to add Steve to the list of things he hated, but the sun bent its light off his abs and Tony couldn’t hate anything that pretty. But he could hate the tourists, the seventh freaking tourist of the afternoon, that bumped into him. They all smelled like sunscreen and Tony hated it.

"What's bothering him?" Steve watched as Tony pushed past a family in swimsuits and floaters. He had to shove away his own prickle of disappointment. Sure, none of them wanted to spend the next seven days on a cruise ship. Some of them wondered if this harebrained idea of Fury’s was even safe - mostly Bruce, who opted to stay in their suite instead of witnessing their departure. But there had been anger in Tony's eyes and Steve did not understand it.

“Tony Stark cannot sit still,” Natasha told her magazine. Already clad in a sharp black one-piece, she soaked in the late afternoon sun. “And we just put him in a glorified cage. Without his suits.”

Next to them, an olympic sized swimming pool connected a running track with what appeared to be a wall for recreational climbing. Steve heard the sounds of children laughing below and a woman had already come by, twice, to ask if they’d like any food or drink. “This is not a cage.”

Clint snorted. “This is definitely a cage.”

The wood bent under Steve’s grip, replaying the conversation with Fury in his mind. This was about team morale. They were the Avengers. And since the Battle of New York -well, that meant something now. “This is team bonding.”

“Of course--” Clint placed his feet back onto the railing, lowering his sunglasses so Steve could see the amusement in his eyes. “--Captain America would buy the company line.”

###

Fury had booked them a single suite that contained three rooms. The only way Bruce even agreed to join was if Thor bunked with him, to reign in the big guy if things turned sour. Natasha claimed the room with the double bed and left the room with bunk beds and a separate twin for Steve, Tony, and Clint.

For a suite with that many people, it seemed odd to be sitting in the common room alone. He had opened the sliding door that led to the balcony, let the sounds of the ocean crashing along the lower decks lull him into a nap.

The front door slamming open startled him awake.

He checked his blind spots and noted that the sun had hardly moved from the last time he looked its way - he hadn’t slept long. Which was why it was impressive how drunk Tony appeared to be.

He stumbled against the door before kicking it shut behind him. The amber liquid in his cup sloshed over the rim. Steve stood, reaching out to help the man but he shot his hand out, pushing Steve away.

“Oh, trust me, Cap, I know how to handle this situation way better than you,” Tony emphasized his words with another stumble, crossing the room to throw himself onto the couch Steve had just vacated. “What I need is the complimentary two liter of water, a washcloth, maybe a bucket. You, you,--” He pointed towards Steve’s direction, not quite landing his mark. “Lower the lights.”

“I’m sorry, have you confused me with JARVIS?” He asked as Thor and Bruce’s bedroom burst open. The sound surprised Steve but it was much worse for Tony who yelped and almost fell off the couch. Steve hid his laugh behind a cough.

Thor stood in the doorway, proud in his three-piece suit. The blond strands of his hair were tied back and secured by, what looked to be, one of Natasha’s hair ties. He’d shaven for the occasion and his shoes looked recently shined. “Friends, soon we feast!” The words were a bellow like always and, outside of battle, they never failed to put a smile on Steve’s face.

Tony groaned.

“Are you ill, my friend?” Thor’s face dropped with concern and he was by the sofa in one short step.

“Why are you yelling?” Tony asked, forearm thrown over his eyes.

“He’s hungover,” Steve said and Tony moved his arm an inch to glare at him. Steve laughed at the man’s pathetic attempt at threatening through a pout but he still crossed over to the kitchenette and grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge. He tossed it at Tony’s feet.

Tony kicked until the bottle rolled up his body, close enough for him to grab. “Thanks for making me work for it.”

“Are you joking right now?” Steve asked, arms crossing over his chest. “We're supposed to be bonding as a team and you storm off to get drunk midday instead.”

“We have our opening meal with the Captain,” Thor reminded, breaking the intense stare off between Steve and Tony. He sounded disappointed. Tony hated disappointing Thor and he added it to the long list of things he hated about this cruise.

“Already? I thought that was at seven,” Steve asked, already moving towards the bedroom.

As he left the room he heard Tony murmuring to Thor while he navigated around the twin beds to the closet in the corner. “Ugh, fine, I’ll go.” Then, louder, Tony yelled, “I call first shower!”

Steve counted to ten, using the words, “team bonding” as a mantra. He would not punch an intoxicated Tony Stark.

###

Clint did not have time for a shower and everybody noticed. He had spent the day in the gym of all places, claimed that a punching bag in a room full of windows in the middle of the ocean was his form of relaxation.

Whatever, he smelled, and it was starting to make Tony nauseous.

They sat in a round table near the window, a great view of the engine’s wake. Thankfully, for Tony, the waves were calm. The only thing causing him to be sick was the sour, sweaty smell of Hawkeye seated next to him.

“How can you stand to be in a suit when you’re that filthy?”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve seen you covered in grease, and you weren’t even building anything, just playing with DUM-E and Butterfingers.”

“Not in Armani.” Tony hunched away from Clint, into the organic, clean scent that was Steve Rogers.

Steve patted his head and Tony flinched away from the contact, shocked less by the man’s patronising smile than by his action. “Are you petting me?”

“You just look so….pathetic?”

“Are you _judging_ me, America?”

Steve couldn’t help it, Tony looked so ridiculously helpless. He was almost falling into himself in the fancy dining chair and every time the waiter came over, which was a lot, he would turn further into the space between them. The waiter returned to pour some water into their glasses and Tony groaned. “You’ve done this to yourself.” Steve patted his head again.

Tony wanted to smack his hand away but instead leaned into the touch. Steve Rogers had the ability to block out most ambient noise, a side effect of the serum he assumed. Fingers trailed into the strands of his hair, completely undermining Steve’s hard words. “Alcohol did this to me,” he groaned, but it faded away underneath the table’s conversation.

“You know the suite has three showers.” Natasha reached over the table for the basket of bread, using a piece to soak up the oil from her escargot appetizer. “And any one of them would have turned you into a human being fit to eat on fine linen.”

Thor held up his cloth napkin. “Is this considered fine?”

Tony snorted. Natasha reached up for the napkin and put it back in Thor’s lap. She shook her head, red curls brushing against her bare shoulders. The beading of her black floor length gown flickered in the setting sunlight as she moved. “This is considered fine for _Clint._ ”

Bruce reached over to pick up his napkin and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. “I don’t know, this is pretty nice.”

“And you’re an expert?” Tony snapped, angry for no other reason than the fact that they all existed and continued to talk in his presence. “Lots of fine linen in Calcutta?”

Steve’s hand fell away from his head and he immediately regretted his outburst. He hated his headache, and the way the sun kept catching his eye during its descent and he hated the way none of them cared that he was drunk and pouting - hated that this is what they expected of him, that this had been his state of mind more often than not, since flying headfirst into space with a nuclear weapon.

Tony reached for his tumbler of whiskey. Steve’s hand reappeared, only to move the glass out of his reach and replace it with water.

###

Then the baked Alaska arrived and everything went to shit. Bruce moved his sleeve a little too close to the torch and he jumped back, pushing away from the table, face whitening then turning green. Bruce did not like fires it seemed. Steve filed the information into his mental notes for Hulk.

Wild eyes met Steve’s across the table and he only had to nod towards Thor for the God’s solid hand to press around Bruce’s shoulder, pulling him from his seat. The two were out the door.

The table shook as Clint kicked Natasha under the table.

“Whoa!” Steve reached out as the two started bickering in Russian. Tony hated when they bickered in Russian; he added it to his list.

Clint’s forehead crinkled as he gestured violently with his arms, thrusting them out in front of him, yelling something at Natasha.

Tony was surprised to see how abashed she appeared, glancing towards the door before nodding. She said something else in Russian, almost whispered and affectionate, a speech long enough to turn Barton from angry and defensive to withdrawn and guilt-ridden right in front of them. Natasha shook her head, asked him a question, which he ignored, before she stood and followed Bruce and Thor out the door.

Barton sat for all of two seconds before pushing from the table and leaving through a different exit.

“Well,” Tony said, lifting his hand to reach for his whiskey. “We made it to dessert?”

Steve unclenched his teeth and looked towards Tony, his eyes falling first to the drink and then forcing their eyes to meet. “You haven’t had enough?”

“I took a break and was forced to sit through Introduction to Russian. I think I deserve this.”

“They were talking about Clint.”

Tony sat back, impressed. “You know Russian?”

“Not fluent by any means. But I picked up a bit.”

“About guilt?” Tony asked.

“About war.”

Tony looked to where Clint had left, a side door that took him towards the outdoor deck. He hadn’t gone far, staring at the sunset, unmoving. “He not over Loki’s possession, I'm guessing.”

Steve shrugged, broad shoulders rising and falling under his well-fitted suit. Concern creased his forehead and he still looked like the ideal specimen of Man. He cared so damn much. Cared about the Avengers, about his teammates, about Tony. He wanted to add it to the list of things he hated but knew it’d be a lie. Instead he finished his drink, then stood and left the man alone at their table.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like our seven day cruise, I aim to update and complete this story in seven days. 
> 
> Together, we shall see if everything goes according to plan!

Bruce read a medical journal on the balcony, the mid-morning sun hiding behind the ship, casting their suite under a cool shadow. From against the sliding door, Steve looked towards the horizon then back at Bruce. “I have to hand it to Fury, parts of this ship are rather relaxing.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, not looking up from his journal. 

“So, no Bingo?” Steve asked, again. 

Bruce shook his head, turned the page. “Might be too high stress for me.”

Steve suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh, come on--” The Brooklyn accent tinted his words and Bruce twitched a smile at the slip. “--Its an activity for all ages.”

“Its an activity for ancient people,” Clint said, sliding up behind Steve. He patted a heavy hand on his shoulder, chuckling under his breath. “You'll fit right in, Cap.”

“Funny,” Steve deadpanned before turning back to Bruce. “It's very low energy.”

The man hummed, pressing a finger into his medical journal before meeting Steve's eye. He saw the resignation there, Bruce’s certainty that a simple game of Bingo would make the other guy run loose. Pulling his glasses into his hand, Bruce rubbed at his eyes, trying to relieve his tension. “I know this is about bonding but I'm better off here…. Where I can jump into the ocean, if needed.”

“That’s all right, I'm sure the Hulk could punch through any of these walls and beeline straight for the water,” Clint offered. No one laughed at his joke even though Clint smiled like a loon. Instead, Bruce's expression turned pained and he returned to his journal. 

Steve wanted to throttle Clint. “Hawkeye, with me.” He slid the door closed then reached out to pull on the man’s arm. The desire to drag him straight to Bingo, roughly and not missing any corners, was so tempting that Steve had to count to ten. He used his same mantra as before. 

It was going to be a long week.

###

The theater was both grand and trashy. It took up three floors, all dark velour and fake crystal chandeliers. From his spot on the balcony Clint could see the numbered balls held tightly in the hand of the cruise employee (they had been instructed to call her their  _ Fun Engineer _ ), before she announced them to the crowd. Steve, Natasha and Thor were on the lower levels of the theater surrounded by senior citizens and a handful of drunk twenty-somethings. 

Cruises were weird. 

The twenty-somethings laughed loudly at some joke as Clint texted ‘B 6’ to Natasha’s satellite phone. They were only supposed to use it for emergencies, but Clint considered this to be one: He was bored. Screwing with the Avengers as they tried to kumbaya over an ancient game of chance, well, that was a solution to his boredom. Their Fun Engineer yelled,  _ ‘B 6’ _ into the theater’s sound system just as Natasha turned her head over his shoulder to glare at him. 

A moment later, the woman on the stage pulled ‘G 49’ out of the pot of numbers. 

Clint texted it to Natasha as their Fun Engineer rambled into the microphone about the cruiseship’s history and their route. He watched as Natasha received the text and wasn’t surprised when she turned again to him and gestured that he  _ get downstairs now! _ But it didn’t matter, Thor had picked up the phone. His eyes widened as he stamped G 49 off of his chart and stood up, cutting off the Fun Engineer’s speech by bellowing, “Bingo!”

As if the words physically hit her, the woman stumbled back, shaking her head, trying to pull herself back together. Clint sat back, feet up on the railing, as the woman listened to Thor count off his numbers. When he reached G 49, the good ol’ Captain himself turned to look up at Clint, clearly disappointed.  

“I’m sorry, sir, we have not called G 49 yet. No Bingo.”

Thor’s smile fell immediately. “Aye, but you will now. My Hawk-eyed friend has confirmed it from the balcony.”

The theater fell silent. Blocking the stage lights with a hand on her forehead, the Fun Engineer spotted Clint. Her entire attitude changed, her smiling face squinting into anger, shoulders tightening as she pointed a finger at Clint, from appeasing to inflexible in the span of thirty seconds. “You are not supposed to be up there, Sir.”

“Sir?” Clint snorted. 

“I’m going to have to ask you and your party to leave the theater.”

“But,” Thor held up his chart and pointed to G 49. “Bingo?” Natasha stood and rubbed a soothing hand on Thor’s back. 

A heavy weight settled in Clint’s stomach and he suddenly felt horrible. The disappointed face of Captain America didn’t do anything to appease the feeling either.  He hadn’t meant to get them kicked out. He was just bored. Bored and possessing perfect vision; it wasn’t his fault. 

Except, it totally was and now Cap was ushering Thor and Natasha from their row. He met Clint’s eye and pointed for him to meet them outside. Clint kicked off the railing and did as he was told. 

Was this Team Bonding?

###

Steve stood over Thor, who was slumped in a plush seat. He had no idea what to say to the man. How do you console a God? But he remembered how Bucky hated to lose, and while no God, Bucky was still a soldier and, more importantly, a competitive bastard. So, Steve did his best.

The dragging of Clint’s sneakers against the marble floor pulled at their attention. “Sorry,” the man mumbled without prompting. “I didn’t mean to get everyone kicked out.”

At Clint’s truly abashed face, Thor stood and, with a strong hand on his shoulder, shook the man lightly. “It is all right, Hawkeye. Unintentional, as you said, and actually a bit of fun. I would have loved to win the gold the woman was offering but her shocked face when she looked at the ball in her hand was amusing, if not a bit devious.”

“Thank you?” Clint replied, unsure. 

Steve, apparently, needed to be the voice of reason. “We are supposed to stay under the radar and you’re getting us kicked out of Bingo. Bingo, of all places.”

He heard a snort from behind them and turned to see a familiar coat jacket at the lobby bar. Tony. 

“And where were you last night?” Steve demanded then cringed at his own words, knowing how ‘mother-hen’ they sounded but Tony had not returned to their bunk last night and it's was driving him crazy trying to guess why.

Tony fixed him with a raised eyebrow, turning in his barstool to face them. “You are neither my daddy nor my twink, so I don't know why you deserve to know.”

Clint snorted while Thor asked Natasha what a twink was. Steve did not need to ask anyone what a twink was-- a fact that Tony obviously picked up on, considering the rise of his other eyebrow and the flirtatious smile that graced his face. 

The man was beyond tipsy and Steve had to look away. A second ago he had been furious with Tony. He was drunk again and had been missing for almost twelve hours, but damn, did the man know how to control Steve’s anger, both creating it in a burst or deflating it with a single expression.

“I fell asleep on the bow, if you must know.” Tony said, voice low. “Woke up sticky under the sun, not my finest hour.” 

“Few of them are,” Natasha quipped. “Come on, Hawk-face, I need to throw you around the gym for a bit, test out the boxing ring after that stunt you just pulled.”

“I’d like to see you land a blow.”

“You hurt Thor’s feelings. Trust me, this afternoon I have not only the skill but also the motivation.”

Their voices trailed away and it was only when they fully faded that Steve realize this was the first time, to his knowledge, that Clint had sparred with anyone since Loki and the Battle. Maybe they were making some progress-- but then he turned back to see Tony glaring at him and he pushed the thought away.

Tony saw the wheels turning in Steve’s mind, though, hope and frustration both apparent on the Captain’s face. He wanted to hate the vulnerability he saw there because he was their leader and he shouldn’t be so easy to read. Or maybe it was only Tony who could read him like an open book. 

Either way, the look on his face was not a welcoming one. Steve looked guarded now, wary, and it made Tony want to put away his drink. Instead he took another sip. 

“I’m going to go check on Bruce. You’ll be at dinner?”

It was hard for Steve to turn his words into a question and not a demand but Tony rewarded his efforts with a small nod. When he left, Tony turned back to the bar. The same ambient noise as before, same notes crooning of piano from the corner, same constant hum of the engines, but somehow, now, Tony felt more lonely than before the Avengers interruption. He hated it.


	3. Day 3

The thing about cruises was that there was more to them than sitting on a boat, traveling the ocean for a week. You had to get off the ship and, in the name of team bonding, you had to participate in excursions. 

Bruce did not like excursions. 

First, they had to stand in line. A long line with tons of innocent people that had no idea he needed personal space, that didn’t know that at any moment he could snap and there would be a unpredictable weapon in their midsts.

Then, they had to stop for a photograph. Every group,  during the disembarking , stopped on the metal stairway that connected the cruiseship to the dock and received a flash in their face. It explained the line. Bruce clenched his teeth and closed his eyes against the bright bulb. 

This was his fourth unsolicited photograph taken by the cruise staff since they left New York.

“Almost over,” he heard Natasha’s calming voice as the man took another photo. 

“And, I think that’s enough,” Tony announced, stepping away from the stairs. They all followed, ignoring the photographer when he called for them to stop. Bruce was grateful for his interruption and at how they all formed a circle around him, a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. 

They walked along the shore and found a bit of sand away from any potential catastrophe, if his worse half decided to come to surface. Only then did the Avengers break away from their spots around Bruce, the group untensing as one. 

Tony plopped a chair in the sand and pointed next to it for Thor to plant the umbrella. The God followed his orders, a fact that always inflated his already sizable ego and he realized he was smiling. He had his feet in the sand and he did not hate it. 

He hated the direct sunlight and tanning, hated seawater getting up his nose or down his throat. Even more, he hated that they were required to attend this beach outing at all. But he did not hate the sand in between his toes and he supposed that counted for something. 

The heavy thump of his hangover-headache was only a slight throb today but right now there was no way he was going to leave his spot under the umbrella to follow these crazy people, his crazy teammates, into the ocean. Clint was first in the waves, which did not surprise anyone, he enthusiastically jumped over the first one before Bruce even settled on his towel next to Tony. Thor followed him soon after while Natasha and Steve stood side by side, ankle deep in the bluegreen water as they began a much calmer walk into the ocean. 

Steve smiled towards them and under the sun the man looked glorious. The light radiated off his bare shoulders and made his impossibly blue eyes even bluer; Tony realized he was staring a millisecond after getting caught. He hated it, until a pretty blush broke across Steve’s cheek that  had nothing to do with the sun.

This whole accepting his crush on Steve thing was...new. He blamed it on the close proximity, sharing a bedroom. It all solidified the crush as fact in Tony’s mind. And it wasn’t just that this man was, well, a  _ man _ , that made him wait so long to accept the crush. It was because this man, this national icon, this Steve Rogers, he’d been a great man for longer than Tony’d been a man at all, and it wasn’t even the serum or the muscles, it was the man that tried so hard to mold them into a team, the man that cared so damn much that even thinking about it made Tony’s chest hurt.

“Not a fan of the water?” Bruce’s question interrupted his thoughts. 

Images of Steve’s wet chest as he bobbed in the ocean flickered into Tony's mind and his own curiosity burned to see the reality. He needed to find out if his daydreams were accurate. “I'll end up in there,” Tony replied, because he was certain of it now but he needed to make sure his headache wouldn’t catapult into a full blown migraine under the unrelenting Caribbean sun. So he opening the cooler and pulled out a water instead of a beer. “Want anything?”

“Beer, please,” Bruce said, which surprised Tony. It must’ve shown on his face because Bruce continued, “Not usually much of a drinker, but it helps keep me calm.”

“It can help with a lot of things,” Tony replied because he was well aware of the many benefits of alcohol. 

Bruce chuckled. “So can water.”

Tony pinned him with a scowl. “You speak nonsense.”

Bruce shook his head and laughed.

Meters away, Natasha and Steve stood silent, listening to the sound of Bruce Banner’s laughter. “I think this plan may be working,” Natasha said into the space between them.

Steve wanted to grasp at these straws: at Bruce’s laugh, at Natasha’s words and the fact that she confided them in him, but it was still too soon. Even though they may appear closer as a team, he knew they still had certain obstacles to overcome. “Don’t roll out the parade just yet.” 

Natasha narrowed her eyes, curious. “When can we roll it out?”

“When we’ve managed to reign in a panicked Hulk without hurting Bruce” Steve answered automatically because it was the barometer in his mind. They wouldn’t be a safe team, a competent team, until they conquered their own demons. “And when Clint can pick up a bow without flinching.”

Natasha gave him a rueful smile. “You have high hopes.”

“I do.” Steve took another step, the cool water brushing along his bathing suit, Natasha followed. “I think you can help him better than anyone.”

“Bruce?”

“And the Hulk.”

“They are one in the same,” Natasha replied, simply, and her answer was why Steve believed she would be the one that could help them the most, when the day came to face the other guy. 

“He likes you, the green side and the human side.”

Natasha kept her eye on the horizon and Steve wondered if she thought him foolish but the thought dissipated when she turned to him, eyes soft. “If you say so, Cap.”

The water was up to his navel now and Natasha seemed content in the shallows. Thor had declared he was going to swim out to the depths, so he turned to swim the short distance to Clint. The water fell under his armpit and it was over Barton’s shoulders. Under his toes, the ground was a smooth layer of sand. It was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.  Not that he traveled much. It was hard to count the sights he visited during the war and, outside  of that, well, the Rogers family didn’t travel much and never to a places like this. 

“I think I saw a yellowtail,” Clint said, another wave coming into shore, raising them up and down with ease. “Should’ve bought the spear gun.”

Steve snorted. “A bit of an overkill for yellowtail, I think your bow would do fine.”

Clint pursed his lips together, eyes dropping back to follow the fishes. “I suppose it would, Cap. I suppose it would.”

“Did you bring it with you?” Steve pushed, he’d never pushed before, not with Clint.

The man froze at his question, but his eyes must’ve continued moving because a hand shooting into the water broke their silence and, suddenly, Clint Barton was pulling a yellowtail out of the ocean.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he stated, firm. Then he held up the fish and smiled, boyish like they weren’t just not-talking about his recovery from Loki’s possession. “And look at that, I didn’t even need it. I caught dinner barehanded!”

“I’m pretty sure all our meals are included, Birdman” Tony shouted from the shore. “Throw it back!” Bruce yelled from next to him. Clint look from Steve to the fish then back to Steve. “Aw man, I really wanted to fillet this,” he grumbled but was already lowering it back into the water. “Go and join your little friends, fishy. Buh-bye.”

And then Tony was out of his chair, shaking stray sand off his swimshorts and sauntering to the ocean. “All right, I think it's time for me to get in here and stop Hawkeye from further destroying our fragile ecosystem.” 

His square-cut shorts sure were something, tight and falling straight across the muscle of his upper thigh. Steve had seen them all week, different colors and usually accompanied by a buttondown shirt. The contrast distracted Steve, twinged at a part inside him he hadn’t much thought about since he unfroze. 

He’d never seen anything like those swimshorts before this cruise either. 

A finger flicked at his shoulder. “Move, America.”

Steve turned and Tony was right behind him, water dripping down his face and catching in his facial hair. An urge to reach out and touch, brush the droplets away kept him from answering. At Tony’s challenging smirk, he finally managed a comeback. “There’s a whole ocean, Stark, why do I have to move?”

The smile grew feral, predatory and it was the only thing he could process before Tony had his hands on his shoulder, dunking him into the water. “Because,” he began, eyes twinkling as Steve resurfaced and attempted to catch his breath. “I want this spot.”

“Of course you do.” Clint floated by on his back. “It’s the spot Cap occupies.”

Tony snorted as Steve turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, Tony dunked him again. It took two more dunks before Steve reached out and did the same to Tony, then it was an all out water war between the two of them. Splashing and pushing, he wondered briefly what caused the sudden shift in Tony, if it was the water that drew this side out of him or something else entirely. He didn’t much care what the cause was, though he felt a little guilty at how much he enjoyed the opportunity to touch Tony’s tan, wet skin. That thought was a bit more difficult to brush away. 

Then Clint joined in, pulling at Steve’s leg from underwater as Natasha ran over to jump on Clint’s back and it was an all out war for the next few hours. Balls of mud, expertly tossed by Clint and Natasha left Tony and Steve sore and sandy until Thor returned and helped them take on the super-spys. Tony kept cursing for his suit and Clint was laughing harder than they’d ever seen. Bruce had to call out three times to remind them that the boat would be leaving, very soon, with our without them. It was the only thing to cause a stalemate.

They all attended dinner that night. Natasha picked at her peeling skin, Tony almost fell asleep in his chair. Clint would not stop talking about how he hit Thor in the face with a yellowtail and Steve met the eye of Bruce of all people, who smiled and nodded at him; it was then that Steve realized he hadn’t had to use his mantra that entire day.


	4. Day 4

 

“Crafts?” Tony asked from his twin bed nestled in the corner of the room they shared. His disheveled hair and pillow-creased face made him look all of six years old. 

He flicked Steve off when he told him he looked adorable. 

“Where is everyone? What time is it?” Clint was up and out early, heading to the gym, again, before anyone other than Steve stirred. Tony, on the other hand, had been out late, again, and was paying for it this morning-- well, this afternoon.

“It’s almost one.”

“Really?” He seemed impressed with his own laziness. “These windowless cabins are pretty effective. Maybe I’ll include them in the tower.”

“I’m sure the city of New York would be grateful,” Steve deadpanned.

A slow smile curved onto Tony’s face as he pushed away the covers and stood from the bed. Steve turned away to give the man privacy, as he apparently only slept in boxers and Tony laughed. “I thought you were in the military,” Tony said, as he walked in front of Steve towards the closet. As he stretched to reach something Steve caught a glance at the dimples of his lower back and immediately looked away again. “Aren’t army men immune to nudity?”

“Sometimes,” Steve muttered, and he really wanted to leave the room. It seemed to have grown smaller since Tony left his bed but now the man was blocking the only exit as he pulled on a button down shirt. The tails of his shirt just brushed the flap that opened up to Tony’s crotch and-- nope, Steve was not imagining pulling at the fabric of Tony Stark’s boxers. 

“Oh, so I’m just special?” Tony asked, and he was enjoying this afternoon’s game of making Steve blush. He felt awake this morning, not even a bit hungover, because last night he sat on the bow of this ship with a satellite phone connected to Stark Industries in his hand instead of a drink. Steve would be proud if he had asked, but he didn’t ask, he continued to stare and wasn’t that interesting; Tony did not hate that look in the Captain’s eye. 

“Yes, Crafts,” Steve answered the question Tony had asked earlier because it was a hundred times easier than the question about Tony being special. “Thor wants to attend and asked for us to join.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “He really bought into the bonding thing, didn’t he?”

“Some of us like to make an effort,” Steve replied, walking out into the common room of the suite once Tony gave him room to do so. It was like taking a breath of fresh air. Something about the room they shared, with the twin beds and no windows, made it hard for Steve to think straight. “Thor and Natasha are already there with Bruce. Clint’s waiting for us.”

“Bruce decided to join,” Tony asked. “Color me surprised.”

“I’m sure we’ll be coloring plenty, lets go.”

Less than fifteen minutes later a Fun Engineer shoved a colored pencil into Steve’s hand. He tried not to press it too hard, afraid he’d break it in half. He hadn’t drawn in far too long and never with this shade of red. It reminded him of Iron Man. His hand started moving in an instant, the Fun Engineer’s instructions fading into the background.

“Really, of all the things that they could manage for us, they had to choose Family Trees?” Clint groaned from across the round table.

“Aye,” Thor agreed, face turning sullen. “This is not as merry as I was led to believe.”

And they all knew that each one of them were thinking of Loki. Clint pushed back from the table and Natasha put a hand to his thigh. “Don’t go.”

“I’m just going to get us some paper,” Clint said, voice rough as he pushed away Natasha’s hand. He returned with the Family Tree template and a frown. “Do you think I should leave off Barney? Or my abusive father?”

“Wow,” Tony said from behind his sunglasses. “Do I really have the most functional family unit at the table?”

Bruce smiled, small and sarcastic. “Mine were, well, there was a reason I abandoned them.”

“Better than being abandoned by them,” Tony offered. He lifted his drink, because there was a bar in the activity room and this activity had called for a drink. “Cheers?” Only Clint lifted a glass. Tony pushed away his template and peered over at Steve, who had been quiet since he started to draw. “That’s Iron Man.”

“What?” Steve asked, distracted. Looking up from the paper he saw everyone’s eyes on him. “Oh yea, the color pencil was the exact color so…,” he trailed off, wanting to cover his drawing with his arm, protective of it in the face of his teammates.

“Is that me?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Clint answered. “It’s the other glasses wearing brunette we know that has the ability to turn his hand into a punching fist.

“To be fair, I can’t change a single appendage like that.”

“Consider it artistic liberties,” Steve said, moving his arm to show the others. They didn’t seem mad at him for drawing them, so he figured it was all right.

“You made Thor, like, twice the size of me,” Clint complained. His figure had a bow across his back and a half-smile, the figure’s fingers running through blonde hair. 

Natasha laughed. “That’s because Thor is twice the size of you. At least, his biceps are.”

Frowning, Clint twirled a color pencil in his hand before flicking it at Steve. “Why’d you have to put me next to Thor?”

“Ouch!” Steve yelped, rubbing the place on his forehead. “Aren’t you meant to be drawing your Family Trees?”

“Aren’t you,” Tony countered, eyebrow raised but expression oddly serious.

“Maybe,” Steve began, shading sunlight off of Iron Man’s chestplate. The others had abandoned their papers, forming a half circle behind Steve. Tony had stayed in his seat watching as Clint pointed out another error in Steve’s scale, “Come on, my nose is not that big!” Thor laughed as Steve added a curl to Tony’s mustache; Natasha teased Clint and Bruce, “At least you’re taller than Tony.” 

“Family tree,” Tony reminded.

Steve looked up, and asked Tony to pull his sunglasses away to get the lighting right as an excuse because he really just wanted to see Tony’s expression when he finally answered his question. 

“Yea, Family Tree; maybe that’s what I’m drawing.” 

And Tony watched as they all looked towards one another, barely perceptible nods of agreement and Tony hated that Steve was right, they were bonding. No one else seemed to remember the one constant about family, the one constant about life, the one constant that made Tony take another sip of his drink: Everybody left, eventually.

###

That night there was a party hosted by the Fun Engineers at the ship’s nightclub. Natasha, of all people, wanted to attend and none of the others wanted to fight her about it. It was early, so the dance floor was still empty even though he bright lights shined onto its wooden floor. Instead, everyone in the room gathered around the bar and Tony seemed determined to get monumentally drunk. He was already halfway there, probably been drinking since Crafts between 1pm and 2pm and now it was eight at night. 

Clint was actually surprised, which was strange. Tony Stark getting drunk was a normal thing - but, maybe things weren’t normal anymore. He’d been sparring and thinking about his bow, so maybe things had changed; so Stark drinking was a surprise, which was strange.

The Captain walked over to Tony, face all painted with disapproval as Tony tried to hide his drink in his elbow - yea, like that would work. Steve picked up the man’s glass and downed it in two, short sips. Clint expected anger from the man, but instead he burst out a laugh and reached into the glass for an ice cube, popping it into his mouth. 

The way Steve followed the tiny movement with interest was not so strange either. 

This close proximity thing, it was going to change them. It already had and Clint hated it. Fury should not have had this much insight into their behavior. But then, maybe he should have expected nothing less of SHIELD.  “Penny for your thoughts,” he heard from over his shoulder and the voice was a surprise, not because it snuck up on him (because it didn’t) but because it was Bruce’s, of all people.

He swished his drink in his glass, chuckling as he pulled out the barstool next to him for Bruce. “Just wondering when those two are going to bang already.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Hopefully, not when you’re in the room.”

“Gross,” Clint gagged. “That’s like watching your parents kiss.”

“I think it's sweet.”

Tony had now ordered two drinks, one for himself and one for the Captain and they were currently cheersing, eyes never leaving one another.

“It’s sickening.”

“We should probably get used to it,” Natasha piped in from the other side of Clint. 

The two men leaned into each other’s space, whisper something then laugh and look away, pulling apart. “Are  _ they  _ even used to it?” Clint asked unable to tear his eyes away.

“Of course not. They have no idea they’re on the same page,” Natasha replied and spun in the barstool. She stood and moved towards the dancefloor. Over her shoulder she winked. “Yet.”

“That’s her planning face,” Clint told Bruce. “I don’t like that face.”

“It’s a very scary face,” Bruce agreed.

Across the bar, Steve leaned into Tony’s ear yet again. “They’re talking about us,” he whispered and the rumble of his words made the hair on Tony’s neck stand up; he loved every second of it.

“Of course they are,” Tony replied, voice equally as soft. “We’re not annoying each other or fighting.”

“Is that all we’ve been doing?” Captain America asked, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk and the question stunned Tony because it carried with it such a vulnerability, a step towards something he hadn’t even considered a possibility. But before he could even begin to consider it now, a cheerful voice greeted them from the middle of the dance floor.

“Welcome, ladies and gentleman!”  The man stood under a spotlight, ordinary staff uniform forgotten for grey dress pants and a black button down. “My name is Fun Engineer Dok and welcome to our midway dance party!”

The crowd around them applauded, some cheered, Bruce winced against the noise and Clint stood, bracketing the man from the crowd alongside Natasha.  “I’m fine,” Bruce assured from between them. “Just adjusting to the noise level.”

“Let us know if you need to make an escape,” Natasha whispered before leaning back onto the bar to watch as the dance floor started to fill. 

“All drinks are on the house until 9pm, and if you have any musical requests go ask DJ Dre in the corner. Say, ‘hello’, Dre!”

“Hello, Dre,” the DJ yelled over the loudspeaker and a few people laughed. Fun Engineer Dok dramatically rolled his eyes. 

“Why are we here again?” Clint leaned over Bruce to ask Natasha. She shrugged, eyes bright with laughter. 

“Enjoy your drinks and we’ll be starting this evening in the 80s, going up a musical decade every hour. Enjoy this first boogie from Mr. Jackson himself!” And the first notes  _ Billie Jean _ crooned over the speakers. Three women in their late thirties wearing matching beaded necklaces squealed and ran over from the bar. Fun Engineer Dok spun and moonwalked over to the them, hips swaying with the beat.

Natasha downed her drink and pushing to her feet to reply, “We are here so I can watch you boys make fools of yourselves on the dance floor. Come on, Barton. I know you get down to Michael.”

“I do not,” Clint said, affronted.

“Not even Thriller,” she was dancing in front of them a hand balancing on each of their shoulders as she bent over and swayed her hips. “Or Smooth Criminal?”

Clint opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed with resignation. “No, you’re right. I do love Smooth Criminal.”

“I’ll just have to go and request it then.”

“Well, fuck,” Clint said into the space she had occupied. “She’s going to make me dance.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you may not be the only one.”

“Except, Thor.” Clint leaned forward, looking around for the God. 

“He said he had a surprise for everyone?” Bruce rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t, you know, go Code Green if he left for a while.”

“You seem fine to me,” Clint supplied and Bruce sent him a side-smile, one that meant he didn’t quite believe Clint but appreciated the effort.

“Hey, party people!” Tony interrupted. Despite his flushed cheeks, he seemed more sober than not and had a glass of water in his hand. Almost on his arm, they were so close, stood Steve. 

The Captain’s attention was on Natasha, who Clint watched sweet-talk the DJ out of the corner of his eye. “10 bucks says the next song is Smooth Criminal,” Clint offered to the group, and he knew he was right when Natasha turned back from the booth, smirking right at him. 

And he learned just how oblivious Tony was, and why Natasha was able to stay under the radar at Stark Industries for so long, when Tony replied, “That’s oddly specific, you're on.” Clint extended his hand and they were about to shake when the first chords of the song began. Tony dropped his hand with a smirk. 

Clint’s jaw dropped. “It’s not like you don’t have money to burn!”

“Not if I’m going to be funding all of you bastards,” Tony reminded.

Clint was going to reply with some witty retort he hadn’t thought of yet, when Natasha pulled at his arm until he had the dance floor under his feet. The Fun Engineer, happy to have new dancers, shifted his hips over to the pair and despite his glare, the man didn’t seem to take the hint. Clint didn’t like strangers. He didn’t trust them. At worst they were spies and at best they were collateral damage. This one kept getting just a little too friendly with Natasha and he itched for his bow. Not to kill him, no, the spot behind his chest still burned at the thought of killing anyone with his arrows; images of fallen SHIELD soldiers still kept him up at night. Right now, he wanted his bow because he wanted his team to be protected, to be prepared. 

It was the first time he had thought about his bow in positive light since the Battle and it stunned him. It took Bruce’s hand on his shoulder and the rest of the group joining the dance floor for Clint to be able to move to the music again.

###

“Surprise, my friends! They hath arrived,” Thor’s voice boomed over a song from the early-2000s. Their group was still on their feet, moving in a circle to the beat and it made absolutely no sense to Steve when a Hawaiian shirt smacked him square in the face.

Tony held his own shirt up, leaning against Steve so he could press the fabric far, far away from his body. “I  _ hate _ Hawaiian button ups.”

“Somehow--” Bruce smiled around the word. “--No one is surprised.” 

“Tony hate’s all the things!” Clint yelled to their Fun Engineer, one arm wrapped around Natasha’s shoulders as he swayed with his drink. “He probably hates you, too.” Clint pointed towards the innocent cruise employee. “But then again, he’d tell you, because he likes to vocalize his hate.”

A warm arm pressed around Steve’s waist as Tony turned into his side, whispering in a way that was way too loud and the others could easily listen. It may be time to cut him off. “No, no, no. Most of the hate stays in my head.”

“I’m not so sure that’s healthy, Tony.”

“Of course you’d say that, Cap,” Tony said, hand absently trailing along Steve’s lower back and he knew Tony got handsy when he was drunk and he knew he should probably stop it, especially when Natasha raised her eyebrow but instead he turned to Thor and asked, “Why do we have Hawaiian shirts?” 

The question prompted a tale about Thor reading the Day 6 Agenda and seeing a Hawaiian Shirt Buffet. About how he desired to attend and his disappointment after realizing that none of them packed the required attire. So, he took Natasha’s satellite phone and contacted Fury who helicoptered in six shirts. 

Steve wasn’t even trying to listen. The crowd around them was almost loud enough to drain out Thor and the hand on his back left a trail of heat as it moved even lower. He wanted to reach out and touch Tony. It took all his strength to resist, so he had none left to push away the wandering fingers as they moved along the inside of his waistband. “Let’s dance,” Tony murmured, eyes dark when they lifted to meet his own. 

“We- We are dancing,” he stuttered over the words and Tony reached out anyway, grabbing the Hawaiian shirt from his hand and tossing them both over Clint’s head. At the man’s squawk everyone laughed and Tony used it as cover to pull Steve from the group. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as Steve thought.

The kept a decent amount of space between them until Tony turned Steve around and slid their bodies together, Tony’s chest against his back. With hands on his hips Tony ground them together and he had to close his eyes against the feeling, the friction of them pressing together. He should pull away, he should, but instead he leaned his head back, rolled it on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re drunk.” 

Lips brushed against Steve’s neck briefly, before pulling away. “I am.”

“We should talk about this--” He tried to say but Tony moved in a way that caused himself moan and the rough sound cut Steve’s thoughts off entirely. His resolve fell, wanting more and more to back into Tony’s warmth, and this man, this genius, this temptation was too much for Captain America’s morals; and Steve Rogers always had a weak spot for dancing. He melted into him and moaned, threw his arms around Tony’s neck, hid his face into his shoulder. 

In the darkness of the dance floor, Steve gave in. 


	5. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be two days late but I included the word sexcapades, so that has to count for something. :)
> 
> Happy reading!

The humidity clung to Tony’s face as they drove through the rainforest, the mass of trees whizzing by in a trail of green. In their caravan of open-aired jeeps, the breeze did little to fight off the Caribbean heat and his legs stuck to the leather. Next to him, Natasha took the curves of the mountain with an equal mix of adventure and caution. She seemed content to let him stew in his thoughts, only lifting an eyebrow when he entered her jeep instead of Steve’s. A part of him wished he was sharing the jeep with the man, but mostly he needed the space to think.

It wasn’t that he was avoiding the Captain. Yes, they spent all night grinding at the club. Yes, Tony wanted nothing more than to sink into the man, let his blue-eyed optimism float Tony into a week of sexcapades. Steve was interested now, hard to hide how interested on the dance floor, hard to hide it when Steve pushed Tony against the elevator wall on the way to their room and kissed him so hard it took his breath away.

As first kisses went it was, well, the man knew how to use his lips, almost forcing Tony’s open with the power of his enthusiasm. He whispered words that Tony could not bear to hear but couldn’t stop replaying in his mind. “I want you so bad.” Steve had kissed into his neck. “It’s been so long- since before, that I’ve wanted anyone this bad.”

And Tony’s thick laugh in reply, how it had failed to hide his nerves because as much as he daydreamed about the moment, he never thought he’d actually get to kiss Steve Rogers.

“You surprise me,” he had said, wanting to twist the focus from himself to the Captain. “It was only when I caught you looking that I even knew you swung this way.”

“I swing every way, especially if they're a good dance partner.” Steve had replied, dragging their hips together in an imitation of the act his arms on either side of Tony’s head, pushing him into the elevator wall.

“We’re not on the dance floor anymore,” Tony reminded, because he needed to know how long he’d have this man before Steve ripped himself away, before he tired of this game, this adventure, this cruise fling.

Steve had stepped back then, something in Tony’s words clearing the emotion from his face. The blonde pulled at the hem of his shirt, straightening the fabric when he wished instead that Steve would take it off right there in the elevator. He moved far away from Tony, both his expression and his body, and he had wished he could take back the words but Steve was already replying, “No, I suppose we’re not.”

And then the elevator doors had opened and they walked, awkwardly, back to their room. Tony bee-lined straight for the shower to deal with his rather significant discomfort. By the time he entered their shared room, Steve was asleep or pretending to be.

They hadn't spoken much since. He wondered what he'd say, what Steve would say.

As they drove up the volcanic mountain the air grew colder, the trees thicker. “What did Clint sign us up for?” Tony finally had to ask Natasha, because the air had thinned as they climbed elevation and he ached for his suits, hated being up this high without a means of escape.

“Rock climbing and ziplining. Maybe even a bit of propelling.” Her mouth lifted at the side, just the tiniest hint of excitement.

“You guys don’t get enough adrenaline from our day job?”

“Do you?” Natasha countered, her foot pressing harder on the accelerator, wind whipping up as she tilted her head back, the air caressing through her hair. Tony closed his eyes against the wind and thought of Steve leaning his head back onto his shoulder, the rush of it, the temptation to slide hands on hips, over skin. It hadn’t mattered that they were in the middle of a cruise ship, on the center of a dance floor; the lights were low, the beat connected them and adrenaline rushed through his system. Tony wanted, so Tony took.

“I suppose there’s a bit of adrenaline junkie in all of us,” Tony said, opening his eyes to fix Natasha with an eyebrow lift of his own. “But my usual fix does not involve climbing rocks.”

“Just getting yours off.” Natasha chuckled, “Or blowing them up.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, not liking this line of teasing at all.

“Or stirring them in a glass of whiskey.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Or…”

###

“I think I’m going to sit this one out,” Clint heard Bruce’s first words after they hopped down from the jeeps. The man was looking up at the mountain wall, which was no higher than a five-story building and contained clearly marked routes to the top. It was more an amusement park attraction than real mountain climbing. There were ropes on the far side propelling down the peak and a zipline, for those who wanted a more extreme descent. A couple teenagers waited in line as their friend kicked off of the cliff, screaming as she sped through a cleared treepath. “Yea,” Bruce managed. “There has to be some coffee stand I can wait at.”

“We’re in the middle of a mountain!” Clint frowned. He knew mountain climbing was a challenge but it was _his_ pick and this was the best excursion on the list. It was actually fun for a change, better than Bingo! and Crafts. And yea, Clint knew Bruce would be skittish. But, maybe they needed to face the big-green-giant in the room head on instead of fearing it at every turn.

“It does look rather populated,” Thor said, looking around the grounds. “And people like refreshments.”

“You’re not waiting at the coffee stand! This is climbing up a couple feet and sliding down rope, it’s childsplay.” Clint pointed at a group of children, “Literally.”  

“Why do you care,” Tony asked, surprised, because it wasn’t like him to rally the troops. Well, it wasn’t like Iron Man to make out with Captain America so Tony Stark can go fuck himself. But he wasn’t going to say that comment aloud, because he hates Steve’s disappointed face, so instead he said another truth.

“It’s stupid to keep coddling the man.”

“Hey!” Bruce and Natasha said in unison, then looked at each other, surprised. Clint wouldn’t let the argument slide though and Natasha rose to the challenge, pulling a wary Bruce along for the ride.

Steve stood nearby and knew he should intervene, but what he really wanted was to meet Tony’s eye. He resisted the urge. Last night had turned so suddenly horrible that a pit grew in his stomach ever since.

It shouldn’t have happened that way, not between them, not fueled by lust and lowered inhibitions.

He couldn’t meet Tony’s eye, so instead he pressed a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder and, when the man turned to meet his eye, sent him a reassuring smile. “We’ll all be climbing with you, if anything were to happen--”

“Which it won’t.” Clint was adamant.

“But if it does,” Tony piped in. “Someone will be able to assist you. Not me, of course, being suitless and all, which, have I mentioned I _hate_ by the way?”

“Yes!” They all answered.

“Well good, because I do. But one of the others will be there.”

Many things awed Steve about Tony but his ability to put others at ease was one of his favorites. He watched Bruce finally nod, accepting, and Clint’s triumphant smile and before long they were all strapped into harnesses.

Thor and Clint went up first, followed by Natasha and Bruce. Before they kicked off Natasha slid up next to Bruce and whispered something that sounded like, “See, not so bad,” into his ear and Steve had to agree, this wasn’t so bad at all.

Until it really, really was.

###

They made it to the top of the mountain without a hitch. Steve climbed with Tony who spent most of it grumbling, loudly, about the benefits of the super-serum. When he reached the top though, his frustration didn’t stop him from taking Steve’s offered hand. Sweat marred his brow, pressed his dark bangs to his forehead. His cheeks were flushed but he smiled through it, exhilarated. Leaning onto his strength, Tony pulled up and it was hard not to press into his weight when he was standing so close. Tony lifted his eyes to meet his, a small, private smile almost hopeful, when Steve didn’t pull away.

“There you are,” Tony whispered. “I thought I scared you away.

And the words were said with such genuine affection that his confusion returned. Tony chose to ignore him this morning and it had been Tony that had interrupted them last night, reminding Steve that they were in an elevator, not the dance floor. At the time he thought it meant Tony didn’t want this thing between them. Except now here he is, eyes wide and hopeful and lips too close and they’ve inched further into each other’s space, right there on the side of the mountain.

“I thought you didn’t want-- No, I don’t scare that easily,” Steve stammered, reaching out, wanting to touch the smooth skin of Tony’s cheek but abandoning the motion midway, dropping his hand.

“Good,” Tony replied, reaching out to grab the fallen hand. “Last night I-”

And then there was a scream, a horrific sound from a child’s mouth and they both moved fast to the other side of the mountain. Steve arrived first to a flurry of green, his heart wrenching as the Hulk roared and jumped off the mountain with the child.

Tony was there, running next to him, and it was only Steve’s hand around the man’s waist that kept him from following the Hulk over the edge. “No suits here, remember.” Their feet skidded on the rock and the other Avengers rushed over, peering over the cliff as a woman screamed.

“My son! Someone help!”

“What happened,” Steve asked Thor, who had been up here with Bruce. He had taken the first climb so he’d be up here, to prevent this exact thing from happening. The woman had run to the edge and Natasha had a hold of her now, preventing her from going any further.

“Mam, please try to calm down,” she was saying, tone even.

“Calm down? Are you crazy, my son!”

“Is with one of the Avengers,” Natasha said, trying to sooth the woman.

“The Avengers?” She asked. “The Avengers are here?”

Natasha had turned the woman, pushing her into their semi-circle and through her tearstained face she looked at each of them before returning to Natasha, who nodded. “We are here, and one of us is with your son.”

Steve hoped she knew what she was doing. That she wasn’t making promises that would be broken by Hulk, smashing. “Wait here with Natasha, mam.”

She nodded weakly and Steve motioned for Thor to follow him to the edge.

“Do you see them?” Steve asked, because he knew the God’s eyesight was better than all of them combined. This side of the mountain dropped far more than a mere five stories and the forest blocked much from view.

“Aye,” Thor said. “Hulk is with him.” 

“And is he…” Steve trailed off, unable to imagine the Hulk killing a child, but still needing to know and a small part of him was still back on the other side of the mountain with Tony, stepping closer into each other’s space. A much larger part of him was yelling at himself, at Fury, at the carelessness of this entire idea. If the Hulk killed that child, Bruce would never recover. He should’ve been watching him, not Tony.

“He is returning,” Thor interrupted his thoughts with a hand on his chest. “Stand back.”

A bang from below and then another blur of green and the blasting wind from Hulk flying over his head. A child hung from his arm, unconscious but uninjured and Hulk dropped him to the crying woman’s feet, none too gently either, before roaring.

Many people screamed. The sound was vicious and even though it sounded like triumph to Steve, it shook the ground. Hulk flinched at the screams, took a step forward and the Avengers all started to move but Clint was there first, standing right in front of the Hulk, ready to withstand the heavy fist that he rose in the air.

Hulk slid on the stones of the mountain, coming to a stop in front of Clint. They stared at each other for a moment before Hulk turned on his heel and jumped back over the cliff.

“Bruce!” Natasha yelled, hand already on her harness attaching the rope to the side of the cliff and propelling down after him before any of the others could move.

Thor moved to follow but Steve held out a hand, blocking his way. “We already know you can subdue him with strength. Let’s see if she can subdue him some other way.”

“Are you sure,” Thor’s face creased with concern, eyes drawn tight as they followed Natasha’s path down the mountain.

Steve nodded. “She knows how to reach us if she needs us.”

###

An hour passed and Tony hated it. Vocalizing his hate proved unnecessary, though, because Clint was doing a good enough of job fuming for all the Avengers combined.

Behind him, leaning over the cliff despite the swelling wind, Steve looked destroyed. He tried to keep it together under a blank face but Tony could see the wheels of his brain turning, the blame and guilt he placed upon himself; Tony hated it.

Half a mile away in a wildflower covered field sat the Hulk, his fists in soil. Natasha hung in the shadows of the treeline as the big guy pulled out a handful of flowers and dirt. A dandelion stuck out from the bottom and the Hulk lifted his nose to it and took a big sniff. The image propelled her forward with silent steps, for now.

Right now he was harmless but she’d seen his emotions change in a second and it was just him and her now, no one else to step in.

She allowed her foot to make a sound on the next step, lightly pressing it against a stick and by the time the Hulk’s head shot up, Natasha had frozen in her spot, her hands up in surrender.

The Hulk huffed and threw the pile of dirt at her.

It hit Natasha on the shoulder and after a moment to recover, she let out a soft laugh. The Hulk’s head tilted at the sound, his eyes squinting with suspicion. He watched as she bent down to pull the dandelion from the pile and hold it out to him. It was easy to see the moment he understood her gesture and its intention, his lips widened into a smile and he crawled forward for the flower. Their fingers brushed as it transferred from her grip to his and instead of flinching away, she brushed their skin together.

The Hulk groaned, looked at Natasha, flower grasped tightly in his hand, before running to the treeline to transform back to Bruce.

Natasha let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

###

Needless to say, they got to dinner late that night. Bruce only attended for the soup portion before Natasha and Thor escorted him back to their suite. Tony and Clint polished off the bottle of wine and no one could make it to dessert. In the elevator up, Tony fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder.

“Just put a sock on the door.” Clint waved as he exited the elevator and walked through the narrow hallway to their suite.

Steve shuffled along behind the man, propping Tony up with a solid arm around his waist. Ahead, Clint swayed from one side of the hallway to the other, even though the cruiseship remained steady.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve hissed down the hallway.

Clint shouted over his shoulder, “Ask Tony!”

Tony, at the sound of his name, mumbled against Steve’s neck. “Shh-- Sh-- Shhh-- Hate, Hawkyells. Steve,” he practically whined. “Hawkyells.”

Steve chuckled, brushing his hand through Tony’s hair and he couldn’t help holding the man just a little bit closer.

 


	6. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Apologies for the wait but here it is the final two chapters. 
> 
> Also, just a warning, the first section of this chapter has some sexual content that toes the line of the M rating a bit. Nothing too obscene but, yea, its hard to tamper the heat between these two.

_8:03 am_  

Tony woke up in Steve's bed, in Steve’s arms. They had both lost their shirts somewhere and Clint’s bed was empty, thank _fuck_ , because he was as hard as a rock in his boxers and never more grateful that he was the little spoon.

Until Steve groaned in his sleep and pulled his arms tighter, lifting his hips so they brushed against Tony. A moan accompanied Steve’s movement, a soft little thing that curled at the spot behind Tony’s groin. The man did it again, and again, grinding on his ass and moaning as if it provided the source of all of Steve's pleasure.

“Tony,” the man moaned and damn, his cock throbbed at the word spoken so desperately.

He couldn't help it, he knew the man was sleeping but he wanted to feel it, the proof of just how much Steve wanted him. Even in his sleep, or maybe especially then.

Tony scooted his hips back until he felt it, Steve’s cock pushing back against his stomach under Tony’s weight. He had felt him on the dance floor as they grinded together but yesterday there had been thick denim and the fabric of his suit in the way. Now there was only the thin material of their boxers and Tony could feel every slide against satin.

The lust was always there now, since the fire between them simmered into this _Thing_ , since this Cruise forced them together, weakened the need to resist the pull of the man. But Tony, for maybe the first in his life, placed a stilling hand on the hips grinding against him.

Steve whined in his sleep and Tony tightened his hands in response to the needy sound. The pressure of his hands, the movement, and maybe even his need, forced Steve awake.

“Tony,” he said, again, the only word he’d said all morning and it was enough to utterly destroy his will; his hips lurched back against Steve, pulling a rough moan out of them both. “I was dreaming-” Over his shoulder, he watched Steve’s face so soft with sleep, glare at him. “Why’d you stop us?”

His face flushed and he hoped Steve would blame it on arousal and not sheer mortification. Tony let his head fell back against his shoulder, an imitation of their dance the night before but in reverse; from one dance floor to another. “I’m not going to lie to you. I want to fuck you right now more than almost anything I could be doing on this planet, and most of the known universe, for that matter. I want to turn around, grab you, push you back into this too-small bed and show you pleasure you haven’t experienced in decades, if ever.” Steve’s lips parted during Tony’s speech, and he wanted to taste, so he ran his own mouth from the curve of Steve’s shoulder, up his neck and jaw, to pierce at the plump skin of his bottom lip before following the bite with a fierce kiss. Steve moaned into it, moaned his name again and it was enough for Tony to remember himself.

“But--” Tony pulled back, whispering against sensitive skin. He felt Steve grind into him, an unconscious search for relief, and resisted following the movement. This was the time, with Steve focused on him, on them, on what they could be. Some might call it manipulative but Tony Stark considered it efficient. “--There is one thing I want more than to fuck you right now and that’s to ask you a question.”

The man turned his head, blue eyes curious and clearing of lust. He pushed back, sizing Tony up less than an arm's length away. “What?”

A steady breath could do wonders, but at the moment Tony could only managed a sharp, jagged one. He would continue anyway, because he needed to know where he stood, needed to know before he fell too deep.

He let the corner of his smile curve, casual, and deepened it so the crinkles along his eyes seemed genuine. Casual. Casual was key. “Are we a Cruise fling or something more permanent?” Instead of letting Steve answer he barreled on, nearly tripping on his own tongue. “Need to know if I should clear my schedule, move some things around, dry clean my most form-fitting suits.” He cringed at his own words, he used to be better at this, except, no. Tony’s pretty sure he never actually initiated this conversation before, he was always the one fending them off. And now here he was, rambling about suits and schedules, like he could really clear anything for very long, that’s one of the reasons everyone left-

Steve’s laugh, still heavy with sleep, interrupted his spiral. “I’m interested to see what you clearing your schedule would even look like.”

He tried to turn back onto his side so the man wouldn’t see the growing panic on his face, but Steve had other ideas. Strong hands tightened against his biceps and Steve’s gaze searched his, all at once too serious, not causal in the slightest.

“I shouldn’t have teased.” Steve’s voice was oddly soft, like he was approaching a spooked horse and Tony _hated_ it because that wasn’t who he was, he didn’t need to be coddled. He straightened his shoulders, let Steve’s hands remain where they lay, but relaxed under the touch. Lifting his eyes to meet Steve’s was easy then because, as he had expected all along, there was kindness there, kindness and a desire to understand.

“I just want to know where we stand.”

The warm hand on his cheek was a surprise, so was the other one curling along the back of his neck. Steve’s kiss short, chaste. “Where ever you want to stand, on this Cruise, in New York, Earth, Milky Way, you name it.”

Tony wanted to believe but that was nothing new. What was new was the feeling that settled in his chest, calmed the nerves in his stomach when he decided to let himself trust Steve Rogers.

~~~

_9:47 am_

“Aye, friends! I did not expect to see you Poolside so early this morning.”

 “Aye,” Tony groaned the word, gripping his food tray with an unsteady hand, “I am not ready to be out of bed.”

“It’s our last full day,” Steve reminded.

“It’s not our last breakfast, though.”

In reality, Steve knew the other man just wanted to be back in that twin bed. He had pulled away from Tony shortly after declaring his intentions and led them both into the bathroom. The incredibly tiny cruise shower could not fit them both but steam filled the room and they took turns under the spray. And Steve kept his hands to himself, and so did Tony, and now they were here at breakfast being a Thing that included something other than flirting and grinding because-

Steve had lost the plot somewhere around imagining Tony in the shower. “We thought it’d be fun to have breakfast by the pool.” His words were for Thor but were just as much a reminder for himself.

“You,” Tony clarified. “You thought. I wondered aloud if the sun would be bad for my hangover. It isn’t, by the way, I feel no worse than before. In case you were worried.”

“Well that’s good.” Steve pressed his lips together, smiling at Thor when he met his eye across the pool. It was empty this early, most of the passengers only just waking up from a late night at the dance club or casino. The weather was cool, despite the cloudless sky. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on the views.”

“I would point out that we are in the middle of the ocean, but I find I like being all alone in the middle of the nowhere, so I’ll refrain.”

“Behold!” Steve teased towards Thor, “He found something about this cruise that he doesn’t hate.”

“Hey now, let’s be fair,” Tony tried to speak over their laughing. “I still hate a lot things about this floating hotel.”

One of the random photographers that circulated the ship picked that exact moment to hold out a camera to Tony and Steve, asking if they wanted a photo. Tony rolled his eyes on impulse but Steve laughed next to him as the flash went off.

~~~

_12:02 pm_

“You asked which event I’d like to attend. You shouldn’t be surprised I chose the ballet from that horrible list,” Natasha said as they waited for the house lights to darken. From their spot in the balcony they could see the orchestra preparing in the pit and Tony shifted in his seat next to her, like he’d never sat through an opera or play before, and this one hadn’t even started.

She spared a glance over her shoulder, looking for Steve. This cruise had smoothed a few things out for the Avengers, and while this one wasn’t as important as managing the Hulk, well-- It was nice to know something, or someone in this case, could settle Stark's excessive fidgeting.

“I thought Hydra would’ve ruined the ballet for you,” Tony said, leg bouncing as he turned to look for Steve as well.

“They tried but I’m an expert at compartmentalizing.”

Tony’s foot shook against the railing in front of them as he bit his lip, fretting about the ballet or hydra or Steve.

And ah yes, there was Steve now. Dressed in khakis and a navy blue button up, the man had combed his hair and even included a black tie to his ensemble, despite the early afternoon hour. Clint, who had been dozing on Natasha’s opposite side, woke long enough to tease the Captain about the tie before returned to his nap. Steve’s face reddened but he straightened his shoulders, pulling at the garment in question. “It’s for the ballet?”

“Rightly, so,” Natasha nodded, suppressing a smirk but she chose to keep the laughter in her eyes. “A little formality is appreciated, even in this day and age.”

“Russian’s are weird.” Tony reached out for Steve’s wrist, pulling him into the seat next to him and not letting go. She watched as Steve turned his hand under Tony’s, the matching half-smile they sent to one another as the lights dimmed. The opening notes of Swan’s Lake emanated from the pit and Natasha leaned back in her seat, satisfied even as the sound of Clint’s soft snoring broke through the music. She knew, on the other side of him sat Bruce with a delighted grin and Thor with his own wide-eyed fascination. She knew theater would be a good choice.

~~~

_2:07 pm_

“I promise it’s not that boring, it’s shuffleboard on the upper deck,” Bruce said, and it wasn’t until his hand closed easily around Natasha and Clint’s shoulders, that he had to take a moment to hand it to Fury. In Calcutta he went without physical contact for weeks and now here he was, gripping Clint and Natasha’s shoulders, easily the weakest among the team and they didn’t even wince.

“You’re not proving your point, Bruce.” Clint’s yawned and stretched with such an intensity that he swayed on his feet over the aisle of the theater. Bruce caught Natasha’s eye over the man’s shoulder and her tiny head shake indicated she did not know the source of the man’s exhaustion.

Nonverbal communication - check. Dammit, Fury.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He finally had to ask because he had retired earlier in the evening than the rest of the Avengers and it looked like the man had hardly slept a wink.

Clint snorted, then shook his head and actually slapped his cheeks a few times. “The bow of this cruiseship is not comfortable, no matter what Stark seems to think.”

“I haven’t made it up there yet,” Bruce said, following as they continued up the stairs to the exit of the theater. The elevators greeted them in the lobby and Bruce ushered them into a waiting one, pressing the button that would lead them to shuffleboard. No one complained.

“Well, you’re running out of time.” The jolt of regret that shot through Bruce was a surprise. His desire to extend this cruise, this fishbowl of an experiment, required him to award another point to Fury.

When the elevator door opened, another glorious blue sky greeted them. Like most of their time on the ocean, there was nothing surrounding them but the sea. The hum of the engines absorbed most of the noise from the deck below theirs where a pool, bar and DJ were entertaining a sizable portion of the guests. As they continued along the walkway they passed a line of children waiting to go on the waterslide and Bruce didn’t even tense. Clint and Natasha were beside them, he could already see the others waiting by the shuffleboard. He was safe, they were safe, the Hulk slept easily inside him.

Clint stopped short a step, he had resolved himself to this stupid game of shuffle-water but he hadn’t expected the sight before him. “What’s the Funnie doing here?”

“You mean Fun Engineer Dok?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, I mean _Fun Engineer_ , Dok.” He mocked the words, teeth grinding. Natasha walked by and swatted his arm, not even pausing to see if Clint would fall in behind them, Bruce at her tail like he had been since the mountain. He knew, she knew, that he’d follow along too and  he wished he could hate her for it. Maybe he should leave all the hating up to Tony, that would be good for his psyche.  

“What do you have against the guy?” Natasha asked over her shoulder, words soft enough that Clint had to step forward to hear her finish the question. And then he was following along like it was his idea all along. Oh, Black Widow’s special web of manipulation.

“He’s always around us.”

“It’s his--”

“Before you say it’s his job, I know, okay? He’s paid to make sure we have fun. It’s literally in his name.”

“Are you always waiting for the other shoe to drop?” Bruce asked and Clint’s jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t expected the two of them to gang up on the one of him but it didn’t matter anyway, they were already at the part of the deck designated for shuffleboard.

Steve was there, orbiting Tony like he had his own gravitational pull, and Natasha went to Thor’s side to browse through a shelf of long cue-sticks designed for hitting the circular disks scattered all over the floor. “I think I saw this game at an old folks home once,” Clint said, foot reaching out to kick at the nearest disk, it slid easily over the court, stopping not far from a painted pyramid that Clint assumed was the goal.

Natasha lowered a cue-stick to the disk Clint had kicked. It went flying down the shuffleboard on its way to Clint until Fun Engineer Dok reached out and picked up the moving disk. He used the disk to point at Clint, frowning. “You know, I think you’re supposed to call them Assisted Living Facilities.”

Clint growled at the man and wished for his bow. He wouldn’t actually harm the Funnie, but it would be funny to see the fun man squirm in his fun sailor pants. Cause his bow wasn’t just a tool for evil, a fact he had finally started to remember.

Kind of annoying, though, that it took Fun Engineer Dok to remind him.

~~~

_3:34 pm_

Steve and Tony could only take so many jokes about being stuck together like butter on bread. They’d meet each other’s eye and laugh with the rest of the team, but soon that turned to eyerolls and then clenched jaws of annoyance.

When Clint announced he was going to go for a last spar in the gym, Steve jumped at an opportunity to show them all how wrong they were-- They could do separate activities for hours, even days at a time. Well, maybe not days, the cruise would end tomorrow and they’d see each other at dinner.

But they could point to this moment right now as an example of their independence.

They both thought, separately, that it shouldn’t be this hard to leave one another.

Then, they both cursed Fury.

Tony was never really one to spar without his suits, so he followed Bruce back into the elevator and down to the lobby of the ship. Like always, the piano crooned in the corner and the bar was busy, there were even a few familiar faces by now.

What was new was that all along the sides of the room and the two upper levels that surrounded the lobby were photographs lined for sale. Every photo taken on this ship, onboarding and disembarking, out on excursions and in the dining hall for meals, this cruise had documented all of it.

They wandered idly for a bit, Bruce pointed out the ones where people looked annoyed and they made it through columns after columns, laughing so much that when they reached the stairs they climbed to the next level of photographs without question. He was looking at one column of photos that looked to taken of a magic show, about to exclaim his hatred of magic to Bruce when he heard the man gasp.

He turned on his heel, ready for a fight, but all he saw was Bruce with a photo. The man’s shock had morphed into amusement by the time he turned the photo and Tony could see the six of them disembarking at their first port. In the photo, Bruce’s worry was clearly evident on his face and they all had leaned in close towards him.

On the rows of photos behind Bruce, Tony saw that there was more copies and when he saw the one towards the end of the row, with Clint flicking off the photographer and Steve’s face turning with disapproval, he knew, “Oh we are buying this one.”

“I suspect we may be buying more than just the one,” Bruce said, his hand reaching out by Tony’s knee cap to grab the photo taken just that morning of him and Steve by the pool. His face was clearly in motion but not blurred, mid eye-roll as Steve laughed next to him. The sun caught at the corner of the photo, the golden light from it casting a ray over them both.

It was beautiful; Tony would never have hated this cruise so much if he knew it would result in something like this. He was already picturing it on the mantle of the Avengers Tower and it wasn’t alone either, there were others there too, all the photos they had taken throughout the week. “Yeah, no, we're going to find and buy all of them.”

“Always so thorough, Stark.”

“Well, yea,” he smiled, wide and real. “We’re the brains balancing out the brawn, after all.”

~~~

_5:59 pm_

He found Tony at the casino and Steve was not surprised in the slightest. Something about the bright lights and excessive bells and whistles screamed Tony. What did surprise him, was that it was Thor at the center of attention and not Tony Stark. The God had a woman nestled under each bicep and Steve watched as Tony leaned over his shoulder to blow on the dice for luck after the two beautiful women took their turn.

The casino was located next to the lobby, and Steve kept to the corner of the room as Tony explained the game to Thor. He looked intent to learn, and the pile of chips in front of him showed that he was a pretty good student.

Thor said something to Tony that caused the man to throw back his head with laughter and Steve wondered, how had he gone so long without understanding this searing want that caught at his breath.

A lady with silver hair cheered behind Steve, as her slot machine rang out money and blasted the word, “Winner!” over and over again. He clenched his teeth at the sound and, after one last look towards Tony, left the casino.

Across the room, Tony had felt Steve’s eyes on him. Maybe that was the new normal now, an invisible link that connected the them, a hyper awareness that Tony preened under. He couldn’t help but show off, laugh louder, smile wider, with those blue eyes on him.

“You are distracted now, my friend,” Thor whispered over his shoulder as the man next to them took his turn with the dice. “I noticed Steve has left--” His smile turned into teasing, “--And now I suppose you will be leaving too?”

Tony shook his head. “I’m here to teach you the finer games of humanity.”

The woman under his right bicep reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder. “I think we’ve got this handled.” Tony, who would not take the word of some random woman when it came to Thor, caught the man’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Arlene is right, my friend. They know the game very well and are much more eager to assist than you, I can already see your attention has followed Steve out the door.” The woman, Arlene, curled closer into Thor, her hand moving from his bicep to his pecs. On the other side, the woman’s face carried more amusement than seduction as she watched her friend regard Thor’s muscles. It was like Thor hardly noticed, his attention fixed on Tony and it was enough to make him forget about Steve, if only for a moment, so he noticed when Thor broke eye contact, a flicker of sadness and the blush that followed. “It has not been long since Jane and I.. Since--   She ended it. This is….,” he sighed, hand coming up and gesturing to the craps table, the slot machines, the women under his arms. “It’s an effective distraction and one that does not require your assistance. Go, be with the Captain.”

And it was still hard to agree, even after Thor purposely boxed him out from the craps table with a smile and finger wave directed to the door.

Tony was numb to the noise as he left, thoughts on Thor and Jane, what he remembered of them and the grandiose of their love. Thor was always so bright and big, and when he was with Jane it was like all that joy was focused on her entirely. And now they were over, Tony could empathize and he hated couldn’t help his friend more.

He pushed at the door hard, but it carried his weight easily as the wind from the outdoor deck pushed back against it. Weak, always so weak whenever it really mattered and Tony, well, he _hated_ it.

He heard one last bellow from Thor before the door fully shut behind him. Is this what it would be when they returned to New York, everyone fading back into their own lives? Steve in his crappy apartment in Brooklyn; Bruce, Clint and Natasha hidden away in SHIELD, Thor probably homeless now without Jane. The tower had become a headquarters of sorts but there was a yearning now for something more permanent than a waystation for Avengers business, he wanted the team to call the Avengers Tower home.

He thought of the photo he had found earlier, the one by the cash register now tucked in his shirt pocket.

As soon as he turned the corner, he saw him. The long corridor of the upper decks allowed him to watch Steve for meters before he’d sense his presence. He sat on a lounge chair, legs spread on either side to leave room for his sketchbook. A handful of color pencils surrounded it and Steve idly ran his fingers over them, deciding on a color. A bit of hair fell over his eyes and Tony felt the ridiculous urge to hurry his stride, just to push it away.

Steve noticed his approach eventually and the smile he greeted Tony with caused a flutter of panic to grow in his chest. He wanted this too much. Steve, the Avengers, all of it.

“Come check out the sunset,” Steve greeted, pulling an empty lounge chair closer than necessary. Tony laid down next to him, crossing his feet at the ankle. The sun continued its descent, turning the sky from dark pink to bright orange, not the glimpse of a cloud to break its form. “I’m going to miss these sunsets,” Steve said, picking up an orange pencil and shading around the shape already on the page. “Though, I bet you get some good ones from the tower, too.”

“That we do,” Tony agreed. “You’re welcome to them whenever you want.”

Steve snorted. “I’m sure you don’t want me in your hair all the time.”

Where once Tony was a ball of motion, feet bouncing to a beat, fingers drumming on crossed forearms, the next moment he suddenly stopped. The change in Steve was immediate. He dropped the pencil to the sketchbook, turned into the space between them seeking answers to unasked questions.

“Move into the Tower.” Tony couldn’t stop the words from bubbling over, or the ones that followed next, spoken with just as much certainty. “All of you, spies and Gods and whatever we’re considering Clint to be. It makes sense, emergencies happen all the time and if we’re all in one place then--”

“Yes, definitely.”

Tony’s snapped his mouth shut, eyes drifting back over the setting sun. He focused on it for a moment and let the silence grow between them. “You’ll each have your own floor,” Tony told the sun. “And even if this thing between us goes sour--”

“I know you won’t kick me out, come on.” Steve reached over, his hand covering most of his forearm. He loved how it felt, to be under Steve’s hands and if the day ever passed where he no longer had the privilege, well, he’d like to think he was a good enough man to face that head on. Or maybe he’d just move back to L.A.

And there they were already, fatalistic thoughts he couldn’t shake. Only this time Steve was reaching out, a hand under his chin and then their eyes were inches apart --their lips inches apart-- and Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he forgot entirely about consequences and fate. “I can’t speak for the other Avengers, but I’m in. Whether this--,” he kissed the word into the corner of Tony’s mouth, “--is a thing or not.”

“Okay,” Tony whispered into his skin, so on board for whatever was happening between them, what seemed to be continuing and growing past this seven-day experiment. Steve reached up to grab onto Tony’s shirt, pulling back when his hand bent around a photograph.

He was pulling back before Tony could even realize the change of direction. “What’s this?” He asked, hand slipping into Tony’s front pocket and pulling out the folded photo, opening it after a nod from Tony. He watched Steve’s face as he recognized the photo, taken after Crafts of his drawing. It was the Family Tree Steve had drawn of the team, Bruce with his Hulked out hand, Thor’s enormous biceps, him in the Iron Man suit. “Where’d you get this?”

Tony shrugged. “They’re posted all over the lobby. Bruce and I rummaged through them--”

“And bought all of them, I’m sure.”

“Well,” Tony said, eyes wandering back to the safety of the sunset. “Maybe I’ll be redecorating soon.”

“ _Will_ be redecorating soon,” Steve said emphasizing the word. “The Team will want to move in. Now hand me that photo, we’re going to watch the sunset and draw everyone their own personal Family Tree.”

“We are?” Tony asked, unable to hide his smile.

It seemed to take Steve a great effort to look away from Tony's eyes and face the page, pencil in hand as he nodded.  “Yes.”

~~~

_8:07 pm_

“It’s fine,” Natasha hissed under the dim dining lights towards Bruce. “The fire is not going to jump from the parade of dishes onto our table and into your lap. Yes, fire is bad; yes, fire on a ship is bad, but this parade is nothing more than special effects.”

Bruce let out a deep breath. He knew she was right even as his instincts screamed at him to hide away from the Volcano Fire Chili. Her hand was a cool weight on his thigh and he could focus on that instead of this ridiculous tradition of showcasing their meals. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his forehead. It was a hundred times worse today, their last dinner aboard and their second Captain’s Night. And there went another tray of burning Baked Alaska.”

Next to him Clint snorted and the glare Natasha sent in return was near deadly. “Oh come on, it’s a little bit funny, the Hulk, the big green monster responsible for ravaging cities, is afraid of flammable food.”

“Do you see the Hulk here?” Natasha asked. “Because all I see is a pyrophobic Bruce.”

“It’s all right, Natasha,” Bruce broke in because they were making a bigger deal out of this then it warranted and he liked when people, like Clint, cut the tension with humor. It brought the focus onto anyone other than himself. “It is a bit ridiculous.”

“Well good,” Tony cut in. “Now that someone else has said it.”

“Tony!”

“What? Steve, it’s pretty silly, you have to admit. The fire is contained. He’s certainly doing better than the first night when fled from fear.”

“Can we just eat yet?” Bruce asked.

“No, first you have to meet with the Captain,” a familiar voice said from a nearby column. “It is Captain’s Night after all. Good Evening, Avengers.”

“Fury,” Steve and Clint said at the same time, the others chose to glare at him except for Thor who stood up and walked over to the man, shaking his hands graciously.

“This has been a wonderful adventure, Director Fury. Midgard has such fine amusements.”

“Thor, sit down,” Tony said as he pulled at the sleeve of his suit jacket. “We’re mad at Director Fury.”

Thor's face turned with confusion. “But he sent us our Hawaiian garb for tonight’s midnight feast and organized this grand seascape of an adventure.”

“He forced us all onto this ship for seven days,” Clint reminded.

“Without my suits,” Tony added.

“Or my hammer,” Thor said in reply. “And I am still grateful.”

“Well yea, but you’re a God. You don’t require the hammer to get you out of trouble.”

“It sure helps, though,” Natasha pointed out and they all nodded in agreement, ignoring Fury. All except for Steve who pinned him with a glare.

“Why are you here?” Steve asked, when he realized no one else was going too. They were all waiting for him to take the lead as their Captain, the leader of the Avengers.

“I’ve been manning this ship since your first port.”

“You can Captain a ship this big?” Steve could easily read the disbelief into Clint’s question, and he had to agree.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Apparently.”

“And mind games is one of them,” Tony pointed out and Steve kept his eye on Fury, tried to see if there was any remorse behind the cold pragmatism. If there was, Steve couldn’t find it. Fury crossed his arms over his chest, a satisfied smile directed straight at Tony.

“It worked, didn’t it? You’re all buddies now.”

Before Tony could raise to Fury bait, Steve cut in, “And you know this because you’ve been watching us. Why?”

“You could’ve left at that first port. There was an airport, planes ready to go straight to New York. Not a single one of you looked into it.” His shoulder lifted in a dismissive movement, like he couldn’t really be bothered with any of this, like it was all some pastime for Director Fury. “I wanted to know why.”

Clint banged his fist onto the dining table, shaking the china. “Your sick! You put us in this fishbowl after something like New York, and for what? To watch us deal with trauma. Is that how you get your rocks off?”

“Do I have to remind you that you’re an SHIELD asset, conditioned to do as he’s told?”

Steve stepped forward, anger coursing under his skin. No one will speak to his team member that way. “He’s an Avenger.”

Fury didn’t even flinch as Steve drew closer. “Do I have to remind _you_ that the Avengers report to SHIELD?”

“Well, not anymore,” Steve demanded, not knowing where the words are coming from but knowing that the others would back him in up a second. “We’re a team and we will make our decisions as a team.”

Tony stood, throwing his napkin on the table and pointing to Fury. “Your little experiment is over. We’re off this ship tomorrow and then this team can decide if they want to leave SHIELD-issued housing to move into one of the only places SHIELD can’t turn into an experiment, Avengers Tower.”

“Wait, what?” Bruce leaned back in his chair, finger fiddling with the corner of his napkin. “You want us to all move in?”

Tony shrugged and under the casual gesture, Steve could see the vulnerability. It hid in the way his shoulders hunched forward, how his teeth came out to bite at his lip for only a second and Steve saw through it all. His words came before he even thought them though, “It makes sense strategically. We’d all be together in case of an emergency, it will allow for a coordinated training schedule, we can work on our weaknesses. It has a medbay and a laboratory--”

“It actually has two medbays and five laboratories but--”

“We get it, Tony, you’re rich, you don’t have to sell it,” Clint interrupted. “But tell me about the good stuff. Gym? Sparring ring? Olympic sized pool?”

Tony lifted a hand and raised one finger, “Yes,” and another then another finger, “Yes,” and then one more, “And yes.”

Clint clapped his hands once. “Well, I’m in.”

“Me too,” Natasha agreed. Bruce and Thor nodded. “I would be happy to call the Avengers Tower home when I am on Midgard.”

Director Fury’s arms loosened from across his chest before twisting them behind his back. Steve still couldn’t read his expression, even as the man shook his head and swayed on his heels. “This is some hunky-dory level bullshit.”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Director,” Tony said, their waiter approaching the table, ready to take their order.

“Yea,” Clint agreed. “Don’t you have a cruiseship to run? And stay out of the camera room, you creeper Big Brother. Steve, Thor, have you read 1984, yet?”

Tony snorted. “Have you?”

Pointedly ignoring Director Fury with the rest of the table, Clint replied, “Three times. You’d be surprised how many times you’d find it hopping trains.”

“That’s actually not all that surprising.” At Tony’s words the Director turned on his heel and walked away from the table.

Steve’s eyes followed the man out the door but it was Bruce to first break the silence that had fallen across the table. “I guess we call that a win?”

~~~

_10:38 pm_

Steve followed Tony down an increasingly narrow hallway. The others were behind and they all exchanged increasingly worrying glances, except for Clint who looked pleased as could be, hand gripped around the curve of his bow.

“Am I going to have to duck at any point in this adventure?” Bruce asked.

“Yea,” Natasha reached passed Steve to push at Tony’s shoulder. “We aren’t all pint-sized.”

“Hey! I’m taller than you.”

“Are you?” She raised an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Either way, you’ll all manage fine. Once we get outside they’ll be plenty of room.”

“And how many ‘Do Not Enter’ signs will we be passing by the time we get there?” Steve asked and Tony pivoted on his foot, finger raised to Steve’s chest.

“Now don’t you start with me, Captain. Even you know some rules are mere suggestions.” Though Tony spat his words and dug his finger deep into Steve’s chest, he could easily read the teasing in his tone, the easy way he currently led the group to a private sanctuary he had carved out on this ship.

A weight had lifted from the man’s shoulders now that the entire team had agreed to move into the Avengers Tower.

Steve had many thoughts about Tony before this trip. He had thought the man a genius, but selfish. He had thought the man attractive, but self-obsessed. He had never applied the words vulnerable or uncertain to him, and definitely never considered a life with him outside of the Avengers Initiative, but now Steve wanted to do anything he could to keep that excited, boyish, semi-devious expression on Tony Stark’s face. And he was one hundred percent certain that Tony felt the same way.

He reached out to slide their hands together and followed along the hallway.

There was a door at the end with another ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and under it plaque that read ‘Bow Entrance, Starboard Side.’ “Here we go!” Tony pushed open the door and a rush of wind whipped into the hallway, Clint knew to brace for it but Natasha flattened against the wall with Bruce. Thor stood easily against it, letting the wind wave into his hair as he shook his head, clearly enjoying the sensation.

“A little warning next time?” Natasha suggested, yelling over the wind.

“Thor seems to be enjoying it,” Tony shouted back before walking through the doorway. Steve followed, hand still connected with Tony’s and good thing too, because on the other side of the door was a sight that caused Steve’s feet to stumble.

There were so many stars. Even with the lights of the cruiseship, the undeniable darkness of the ocean night allowed a blanket of them to show from one horizon to the other. He had not been to space before, but Steve imagined that this was what it was like for Tony when he sped that missile into the sky, so beautiful and so terrifying, and he gripped the hand in his even tighter.

They were safe here, on this ship, with their team.

Once they got passed the wind tunnel, the bow was more insulated. High walls bent around the pointed front of the ship. The lower they sat the easier it was to hear, which Tony demonstrated by sitting crossed-legged in suit worth thousands of dollars.

“See?” Tony leaned back onto his hands as the others still stood beside him. “Now, here there is nothing to bother you. No Fun Engineers or photographers, no scheduled activities, meals, just you and the water and sky-- Like the navigators of times past.”

“Tony Stark, I never pinned you as a romantic,” Natasha said, crouching down to sit next to the him.

“Sounds like realism to me.” Tony replied as Steve sat down behind him, legs sprawled out on either side. The others sat as well, all except Clint, who stood in front of them awkwardly, with his bow hanging from his shoulder. “Is there a reason you asked me to bring this, Stark?”

Tony tilted his head to the side, pensive for a moment. “Have you shot it since New York?”

The question was asked so bluntly, that Steve wondered if Tony now felt he had the right to know these things about his team, his family.

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, this seemed like the best place to practice on this ship. It’s better insulated from the wind, it’s long, and it has us all here.”

“And why would that matter?”

“Everyone likes a cheering squad.”

“Aye!” Thor lifted a giant fist. “We shall count your bullseyes!”

Clint looked away, towards the very front tip of the cruiseship. The bow felt rough under his hand and he knew what they were doing. He could tell when he was being goaded into shooting his bow. What Clint didn’t understand was their motive. Did they want to prove some point? Or was this really just about Clint getting comfortable with his bow again?

“Come on,” Natasha prompted because of course she did. Natasha knew him better than any of them and she knew how the weight of his bow had shifted from comforting to haunting. With every pluck of the bowstring, he felt one step closer to the battle, when he was nothing more than a man brainwashed to kill each and every one of the people sitting before him.

And now, they wanted to help.

A bubble of emotion choked in his throat, and he turned on his heel so they wouldn’t see it. “I’m going to need a target.” Tony stood at his words, pulling something from his pocket as he walked towards the tip of the bow.

“I have just the thing.”

Clint couldn’t see what the man was taping to a wooden column until he backed away. Taped to the post was a picture of Nick Fury in full cruise Captain regalia.

“That should help.”

And Clint could only laugh, lifting the bow before Tony even made it back to the group because this was what he did, he shot bows and arrows, and no one was going to take that away from him.

With each bullseye into Fury’s belly his small audience cheered.

~~~

_11:43 pm_

He had two Hawaiian shirts in his hand and Tony did not hate it. He was warm in Steve’s lap, their shirts blanketing Tony’s chest from the wind. Moments before, Thor had pulled the hideous garments from his pants pocket and, as the God tried to persuade the others to join him for the buffet, Tony focused on trying to figure out the engineering behind Thor’s pocket. Because no one had even noticed the shirts until they appeared from his pants.

“Why is this so important to you, Thor?” Natasha asked, tone curiosity mixing with her wariness.

“There’s another one!” Clint interrupted, pointing up into the middle of the night sky.

“What’s that?” Bruce asked. “Four shooting stars?”

“Beats my record of two.” Tony commented, reaching over to poke at Thor’s pocket. “Magic?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I will tell you at the midnight buffet.” Tony groaned but he was already pushing up from the deck.

“Friends!” Thor implored. “There will be towers of chocolate! Waterfalls of lobster, mountains of shrimp--”

“Wait--,” Clint gripped at the lavender Hawaiian shirt in his lap. “Why do I have to wear this for all of that?”

Thor stripped his own shirt and pulled on a tangerine colored one that stretched a around the shoulders. After he finished buttoning it, he flexed his arms, lips pulling wide with amusement. “When we all wear grand Hawaiian shirts, we will all have matching garb. A uniform.”

“Yea,” Natasha nodded, pulling her pale yellow shirt on over his black leather top. “But so will everyone else at the buffet.”

“Aye, but they matter not.”

“You want us to wear uniforms?” Steve asked as he grabbed the two shirts out of Tony’s lap Steve slid the red shirt over his own head before doing the same to Tony with a blue one. Tony could not remember the last time someone had dressed him but he imagined it must have been Jarvis, and he was probably less than six years old. Tony could feel the pout on his face and Steve, goddamn him, looked far too amused.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a Hawaiian patterned shirt, what if someone sees?”

“Come on, blue looks good on you Iron Man.”

“I can say the same thing about you in your sports car Red.”

Steve looked up at Tony from under thick eyelashes, eyes dancing with triumph as if he had achieved something, getting Tony into this ridiculous shirt. “Really?” He picked at the fabric, lips pursed as he tried to hide his devious smile. “I could’ve sworn I told Thor to have Fury bring me one in Iron Man red.”

And Tony couldn’t help himself, didn’t even want to try, he just propelled forward and kissed the man hard. Thor, unwilling to have his teammates sidetracked, grabbed a shoulder of each of them and lifted them to their feet. When Tony felt the ground settle under him, he pulled uncomfortably at the cheap cotton around his neck and looked at all of them in their multicolored shirts. “We look ridiculous.”

Bruce chuckled. “But, I guess together we'll conquer this Hawaiian Shirt Feast.”


	7. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cruises always end too soon.

Around Thor his friends gathered, content with food and drink. He leaned back against his plush seat, the same seat he'd sat on for the last seven days, and surveyed the remains of their feast. Twenty or so empty plates littered the space between them. There were the remains of cream and a red sauce Natasha favored, there was also a small tower of bowls that used to hold scoops of gelato but now tilted under the engineering of a food-drunk Tony Stark.

Thor would miss this ship.

“I can’t move, Nat” Clint groaned.

“No one’s asking you too. We can literally sit here until breakfast.”

“I think I’m going to puke.”

Behind Natasha a sight caught Thor’s eye, the first break in the night as the haze that surrounded city lights reached the horizon.

Tony eyes followed Thor’s. “New York.”

It only took the two words to jolt them all awake. The sun would rise soon and the ship would waken with it. They’d already be at New York Harbor by then, scheduled to drop anchor just after two in the morning. They decided to return to the bow and watch the city lights return one by one.

“I bet I can spot Avenger’s Tower first.” Clint declared, perched precariously on the wall surrounding the bow, feet wrapped around the post he had shot at earlier.

“I bet I could swim to Avenger’s Tower first,” Steve countered, stretching his arms as if he was actually considering it.

Tony pulled away from the wall and bumped himself into Steve. “And here I thought I was the one who hated this ship the most.”

“I’m only saying, between this ship and a room in the Tower? I’d choose the tower any day.”

“And it only took this horrible, invasive, troublesome cruise for you all to figure that out.” Tony observed then sighed dramatically. “How am I supposed to hate it in hindsight?”

Steve was unable to hold back his smile. “To be fair, it took this horrible, invasive, troublesome cruise for you to invite all of us to live in the Tower in the first place.”

Clint nodded. “Really, Stark. You should be thanking this cruise.”

“And don’t forget, Fury too,” Natasha added.

“And Fun Engineer Dok,” Bruce agreed.

“Now, now,” Clint cut in. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Tony felt Steve’s arm slide around his waist as the outline of the first skyscraper illuminated the night’s sky. He memorized the solid weight of Steve’s arm, the laughter of the Avengers nearby, how it felt to return to their city as a team. And Tony wondered if, maybe, all the things he hated were behind him now. At least, for a little while.

 

_fin._

 


End file.
